Carnifex
by billy-j-allen
Summary: On Funeral Wreaths' teamwork. POV Kikyo. Rated for char death.
1. Chapter 1

"By any chance, is it true that your group was assigned to develop a directional radiation emitter?"

"Maybe," replied Verde.

"What the hell do we need it for? We have enough problems without it. You could sit on it, couldn't you?"

Verde grinned. "Are you afraid, Aria?"

"Yes, I am. Aren't you? Or maybe you think your great friendship with Byakuran will last forever? He'll do you in with your own emitter."

Verde grinned again. "You win. It's a deal."

Chapter 1

Over former Mediolanum, which once was ruled by Bishop Ambrosius revered as a "saint" by Christian idol worshipers, dominates a multifaceted skyscraper towering at the edge of the city, seemingly composed not from white stone but from bluish glass panels covering it from top to bottom. Modest glass door, located at the very bottom of the iceberg shining under the south sun, was crowned by ornate inscription, carved in white stone above the doorway: "Millefiore Corporation. Protection and breeding of rare plant species".

Hastily putting on an expression full of respect for the Boss and the noble assembly, I entered Signor Gesso's office. Everybody was present at the meeting. Almost everybody - it was clear that Torikabuto, who was decorating the sterile white wall in the form of a chocolate-brown mask, would not otherwise participate in the Millefore Corporation board meeting. It seemed that this fact was the reason for our emergency meeting. If my memory served, Torikabuto's body had already exhausted its service life. Something hazardous had happened to our brave demon-illusionist. But there was more to come. Byakuran was clearly concerned about something else - something we will soon be tasked with.

"Sit down, Kikyo-chan, this is no time for ceremonies. There is also no time to look for a new vessel for Torikabuto. We can't get by without an illusionist of his class - or higher - on our mission team".

While I was pouring myself some banana liqueur, Zakuro tried to suggest, "What about Genkishi…?"

"He's undercover right now, working for the Giglio Nero. We can't distract him from his duties," Boss angrily dismissed him.

Daintily sipping liqueur from a high-class crystal glass in the shape of a blooming bud, I recalled: "We are well aware of who the owner of the strongest mist flame is, but we can't quarrel with our friend Bermuda. And Bermuda doesn't release prisoners without good reason."

Bluebell sat with her legs tucked under her in the light blue chair that matched the floor tiles (the color was in surprisingly in tune with her hair). Apparently, she was thinking the same thing. But obviously Bluebell knew more. "This moron Verde failed to debug the emitter and now we can't calm down your 'friend!'"

"But another research team of ours was able to fine-tune the teleportation system," Boss said, chewing his marshmallows smugly. His sharp eyes narrowed predatorily. "And we acquired some new opportunities. In particular, we will be able to release Mukuro, unbeknownst to Bermuda. Who, incidentally, has curious plans for his Vindice and Kawahira. And for us."

"Kawahira who? This is new to me," muttered Zakuro.

Others, in tense silence, got ready to listen to Boss.

I sighed, legs crossed, and poured myself another glass.

The information received at the meeting demanded careful thought. The giant greenhouse, located on the roof of our residence, was a very, very good place for this. It was particularly nice to sit on the edge of the pool lined with blue marble, smoking a cigar, and meditating or just quietly contemplating to the background sound of the fountain.

But before I could do that, there was some business that I needed to settle…

Said business walked in to the greenhouse the same time I thought about him. He gave me a puzzled look over his glasses.

"Hello, Kikyo. Boss said that you had some business with me, and you'd like to meet me in private…"

"Of course, Shoichi. Sit down, please. Now tell me, how do you like our new flowerbed?" I gestured to the wide, magnificently blossomed platycodon. Its petals were illuminated with a soft but bright purple from within. In the middle yawned a narrow bald patch of loosened and humid - almost black - soil.

"Admire your wacky flowers by yourself. Stop talking in riddles about the straight out what you want, without your pretty words…"

Well, I wanted to be polite to the end, but alas…

Stepping forward, Shoichi found himself between my flower bed and the fountain, where I so freely sat.

He seemingly didn't have time to understand what my last gesture meant - I raised my hand as if to dismiss him.

Poor Shoichi squealed, turning into a sort of bush on wobbly legs – a bush of purple platycodons he had just been so disrespectful about.

The body almost disappeared under the flowers sprouting in it, plopped down on the bed, filling the precise place that had been up to then free from platycodons.

I sighed and stared at the fountain, pulling a cigar out of my pocket - one of the presents Boss once gave me specifically for such cases.

He was right. Strong smoke thoroughly cleanses the brain and at the same time is able to calm even such inexcusably scrupulous types like me.

But I was allowed to smoke only half.

A flexible and compact, but strong body took a dive into the pool, showering me with a cascade of spray.

"Zakuro doesn't favor her for a reason," I thought when a gentle hand splashed water in my face - as a "control shot", I suppose.

"Our handsome thinker looks sad. It's time to cool down or you'll overheat!" giggled Bluebell.

Catching my meaningful glance towards flowers and scraps of clothing - almost hidden under newly grown platycodon stems and foliage (Byakuran prohibited scavenging for the time being - he'd certainly arrange demonstration tours here, so that those hesitant would appreciate the "beauties" of being a traitor, or rather, of the end of his life) – Bluebell frowned.

"Lately Byakuran has been saying Shoichi was a traitor. He found out somehow. I'm glad we got rid of him. Anyway, he was no longer needed".

Fidgeting with the wet cigar butt, I recalled, "If I am not mistaken, boss promised to reward him for his good work?"

"Yep! He said, 'When you have done what I need, you'll manage a scientific base in a very interesting place!'"

"And here he is now," bitterness filled my soul. "-In an interesting place."

Surprised, Bluebell choked, and took a vertical position in the water, comically putting her hands on her hips. "So what, you believe in all this bullshit about the afterlife?!"

"Um… Actually, no," I sighed. In fact, it was she who should have been embarrassed - but this was our Bluebell, splashing naked in front of me. I felt uneasy instead.

"Well, you're right if you don't." Reflections of sunlight falling from the glass ceiling shimmered on Bluebell, covering her body with stirring golden stripes.

"But," I continued, "if Boss's ploy falls through, this topic may be very relevant to us all."

Translucent discharge of gentle blue flame ran through the stub I still absurdly clenched in my fingers - for a split second, it flashed with the same azure glow, and then scattered in almost weightless dust. Unbearable cold burned my hand, however, I had enough time to draw back. Otherwise I would have had to resort to the carnage box for regeneration.

Bluebell was seriously angry. She always reacted badly to any hint that Boss could possibly fail.

"Stop croaking! Say again we are all going to die! And be glad in advance!"

But Byakuran said the same thing answering Zakuro's question about our possible failure: "We are all going to die!" - and smiled with his usual icy smile. Zakuro suddenly wilted and Daisy, who seemed to be absent before, on the contrary livened up and shifted happily in his chair.

"Die. Die. Death. What could be more joyful than nothingness?"

"But why," I chipped in, "if it's so risky? Sooner or later Bermuda will give his price. And we, I think, will be able to redeem them both: Mukuro and Ghost."

"I'm not going to wait for the mercy of the used-up Arcobaleno!" Boss snapped. "I will take what's mine, whatever it may cost. If we die, so be it."

In the silence, only Daisy's sepulchral voice was heard. One after the other, he tore off fragile black petals of a dried up flower:

"We'll die!.. Won't die!.. We will die!.. Won't die!.. We will die!"

Happily tearing off the last petal, Daisy jumped up and headed for the exit. Byakuran nodded at him as if saying he was a good role model. And everyone understood that the meeting was adjourned.

"Calm down. There's nothing to be happy about. I'm sure Daisy doesn't wish us anything bad. He's just odd," I tried to reason with our slightly mad mermaid.

"Funny guy, in his own way," she said. Her flame made the water rise up in bizarre spiral towers, sparkling and cascading back into the pool, vertical counterflows entwining around each other. "But sometimes he gets on my nerves. Especially in these moments, like today. And then there's you with your whining!"

"By the way, have you ever wondered why among the many gifted, Boss chose us for his personal guard?"

"Because we are the best!" Intricate constructions Bluebell built from water merged into a giant water column. From its top, a waterfall poured down - fortunately, not on me, but in the other direction. "Byakuran says so. And he's always right!"

I had a different opinion about Byakuran, as well as about whether we were the strongest source of flame. I remembered the Vindice lead by Bermuda - but I wisely chose not to voice my thoughts. Reminding Bluebell of the fate of wasted Arcobaleno - of Weckenstein's power over them - would be extremely rash. She has just calmed down. She never allowed a doubt of Boss's correctness.

But I remembered something: "So what really happened to Torikabuto? Boss claimed it has nothing to do with the work of our teleportation system."

"The machine is okay," frowned Bluebell. "This," she casually jabbed a finger at Shoichi's flowering remains, "did a good job."

"Boss said that during the test, Torikabuto had been teleported to a certain anomalous area that is believed to be beneficial for those gifted with flame. But I don't think being there affected him very favorably."

Bluebell snorted.

"Yeah! He returned and scattered in flakes - grayish, like cigarette ashes. In the end he became a mound of powdered remains with the mask left on top. Scientists said the 'impact of the flame type was unknown'. But they told me the strength was over the top."

"Frankly, it worries me. Who did he encounter there?.."

"It doesn't matter!" Waved Bluebell dismissively. "We are still stronger. Byakuran will make short work of him - with or without the flame!"

I smile. I wish I had her optimism.

"Of him?"

"Yes, of the guy Torikabuto tried to test. Well, you know him – he spots anyone gifted and immediately checks if he's strong. He had it coming. He was warned to be careful."

"Anything known about this man?"

"The mummies in hats know; Alejandro certainly does. But he tells no one except Byakuran. Nobody knows what they are whispering about."

Alejandro gave us invaluable help in the development of the teleportation system. He, in my opinion, deserves Boss's special trust. However, Bluebell is nervous when Byakuran trusts someone more than her.

"And I'm thinking - why do we happen to be the best? Maybe that's because in our old lives…"

"Because our old lives were hopeless!" she joined in. "How many times have I thought it'd be better than to live like this…? No wonder why it's called the dying will flame."

"We felt like we were on the verge of death," I mused aloud, "against which our mind had no arguments, we hung only by a thread of self-preservation, and that made us who we are."

Using the water's surface like a trampoline, Bluebell soared above the pool, turned around like the blade of a bizarre screw, and fell right upon me. I barely had time to catch her. Sparkling with water, blue hair fell on to my shoulder.

"Who we are today, is what Byakuran made of us. If it weren't for him, I'd be half-paralyzed, and some (Bluebell uttered a word that was improper to say in front of ladies, but what I could do if the lady herself spoke like this) would wipe his boots of you!"

"You think too much, Kikyo-chan!" she sighed after her emotional tirade. She playfully swung her fist at me, Rain ring shining (I cringed; still nervous when someone swung their hands at me). "Better think about an eye tint, it will make you even more handsome!"

And she stormed out of the greenhouse, leaving me a little wet and bewildered.

Splashes of water shone on the glasses that fell from the traitor's nose in the last seconds of his life.


	2. Chapter 2

"That's the situation I got myself into, Verde-san. But that's neither there nor here. In the official science community, I'm nobody, but well, who am I in the mafia world? What kind of a mafioso can I become?"

"Oh, signor Irie, I understand you perfectly well! You think I had it easier: world-wide reputation, Nobel prize, a bright future. Yes, I have achieved a lot, but that was what put me in a very difficult position when I had to go into the shadows. Even if I could prove that I was me, in a very short time I would turn from a scientist into a guinea pig. The whole world would want to study me, to try to understand the essence of my transformation into a funny midget completely unlike my former self. In any case, I wouldn't be able to work in peace for a long time."

"Your work was more important for you than money and fame - because you had already had all of this! I was like this in my youth, an unmercenary idealist, who hung upon words of my current boss, and then a friend... who just troweled colorful but vague promises of quite dizzying future. And then it turned out that my friend was actually the head of a mafia clan. In response to the request to clarify his promises, he just joked about the impending world domination. That he would eventually find a place for me..."

"So, now you won't have a scientific career, signor Irie. Don Gesso doesn't care about your might-have-been career, and he could have contributed to it - oh, indeed he could have! And you can't leave the Gesso family, since the world of legal science is now closed to you; you won't be let go alive. But, as I understand it, you aren't going to be a lifelong dependent of signor Gesso, working for him in his luxurious residence near Milan?"

"If anything depended on me, Verde-san..."

"But something does depend on me, my not so young friend. Transformed into an Arcobaleno, being forced to leave the legal world you are so grieving for, I involuntarily used the criminal connections I had as a normal person. And I expanded them. In particular, this applies to my ties with Vongola family. I gather you can imagine its extent?"

"Quite, Verde-san. The strongest family of Europe and beyond."

"And beyond! You are absolutely right, my friend. I think they will be very interested not only in the results of your promising research, but also in things you know about Gesso family. Particularly, in the boss's plans for the creation of the Millefiore corporation. And the Nobel Prize and other benefits of worldly glory you still care about, they will provide as well, be sure."

"I don't know how to thank you, Verde-san."

"You're welcome, Irie-san. But it would be a very good idea to remember who you are obliged to."

* * *

"Obviously, Verde immediately informed me." With a light and contented smile, Byakuran tipped on the telephone handset. "Of course, I gave Irie a chance - time to come to reason and repent. But he didn't tell me, didn't report his conversation with Verde in any version. He didn't even hint."

"Moron," boomed Zakuro, dramatically clutching his head. "Didn't have brains to understand if Verde works for you, you have him on the leash and he'll rat him out right off the bat! Scientist... baked from the shit."

"An intricate way to escape into death." Daisy muttered. "He could have made it easier, though."

Bluebell snorted, showing she didn't care about the fate of the deceased. Right now, ow she was more interested in tearing open her bag of chips.

"He has already been taken care of by our best expert gardener and our part-time main esthete," Byakuran said, nodding at me. He was shivering and wrapping himself in a blanket (what was quite strange in such warm weather, and even with optimal artificial climate of Gesso residence).

"Always happy to help turn an ugly act into a luxurial bush of wonderful platycodons to decorate our greenhouse with," I said, settling comfortably on the couch in the reclining position.

"Kikyo won't shoot the breeze," Zakuro loudly laughed.

"So now Shoichi blooms and smells," giggled Bluebell, still crunching her chips.

"What could be more beautiful than a fragrant cozy grave," a thin smile lit Daisy's grim face.

"I'm glad you all are happy and in a good mood," Byakuran leaned back on his couch, sipping coffee and eating marshmallows, "but it's time to pay attention to our main goal."

* * *

Bermuda aka von Weckenstein happily jumped on the shoulder of a hefty fellow in the cylinder, with a tightly bandaged face - probably the tallest of the Vindice.

"I was waiting for you, my friends, and now, finally, you're all here, like a happy family!"

I probably hadn't experienced a stranger feeling in my life: to feel like two beings, one of them lounging with all possible comfort on the couch in the Byakuran's residence, and the second a clot of flame, suspended in the tank, which more resembled a cylinder with transparent walls - and all at once!

Now I began to understand - or rather, to feel! - what Ghost became... And how Byakuran felt since emerged his twin, who ended up in the Vindice Penitentiary. As if the one lying on the couch was not me but my empty shell, completely devoid of flames.

I could see neither the cylinder itself, nor what was outside it, but the flame used as a radar informed me that the cylinder stood in a large room with a vaulted ceiling, which was consistent with our knowledge of the Vindice Penitentiary.

The castle-monastery built in the Sicilian Alps by the first Baron von Weckenstein, one of the vassals of Frederick Barbarossa.

And the appearance of the current baron, the descendant of the self-appointed bishops and rulers of these places, known to us under the alias Bermuda, I knew perfectly well and could imagine even without seeing him. A huge humanoid object, on whose shoulder sat Baron, was probably his favorite means of transportation. A Vindice nicknamed Jäger. Both of them were solid impenetrable black long tongues of flame.

"Your boss has decided that if he gives me your flame as clots, your twins, then I release his own twin - the Ghost. The deal is good, but! I changed my mind. I have other conditions. I will release all of your counterparts, consisting of your precious flame, but only after I use their force - and it's all your strength, all your flame. Que faire, my task is too grandiose to waste my time on little things like honesty. I need all the flames of Funeral Wreaths, and I got them. As well as the flames of many other powerful individuals contained herein. But then, when I quench my thirst for revenge that has been gnawing at me longer than you suckers have been alive, I will free your flame - if by that time it won't go out, quenched by me. Tell your boss. I know you can hear me."

The teleportation system should not be used before Bermuda retired to a safe distance, going to meet with someone he wanted to take revenge on for so long. We did not know exactly who he was, but, according to Byakuran, this man, who identified himself as Kawahira, was quite an exceptional person. So exceptional that even Bermuda needed to take the flames of many people imprisoned by the Vindice to attack him.

Our boss informed Bermuda about Kawahira's location when they closed the deal. But he didn't tell Baron that in the same area would wait another interesting person, who would create the proper illusion for Weckenstein.

Soon after Baron and Jäger disappeared out of my flame radar range, Byakuran utilized the teleportation system. It didn't require any of his flame (and he just lacked his flame - almost all of it, in the form of his twin Ghost, lived now in a capsule-cylinder in the building of the Vindice Penitentiary, depriving boss of an opportunity to ever use it), it was enough to press the signal buttons on the remote, disguised as a telephone. At boss's signal, six Strau Mosca biorobots (a special model, different from the standard one by increased power magnitude of the generated flame), worked at maximum capacity as their flame dischargers connected to the teleportation system. Their combined flame discharge put the system into operation, and the "surplus", being teleported to the former convent, split into heavy-duty capsules that contained our counterparts, including Ghost, boss's twin. It meant our illusionist reported that Bermuda directly contacted Kawahira now, and that we should hurry too.

The remnants of the robots' flame energy sent to the teleportation system were enough to transfer all of us to our counterparts, straight to the jail of the Vindice, who didn't expect such a surprise.

I had just laid on the couch with the pitiful remnants of my Cloud flame,for the first time in recent years feeling like a complete nonentity, like a drunken out, dry vessel, and now I was already standing in the dark-even pitch dark-vaulted chamber, feeling the close presence of other the Funeral Wreaths - as real objects on my "radar" and as sources of flame: the sparkling blue fountain of Rain flame, th golden radiant orb of the Sun flame, blinding scarlet, star-shaped Storm flame with lots of spiny ray, and a bright orange mushroom of Sky flame.

We haven't seen the white flash of energy discharge that destroyed the cylindrical capsule, - it lit up the dark room (the Vindice don't need light) for a split of a second while we teleported here. Now I could only hear dust crunch under our feet - dust in which turned the recent repository of our twins, clusters of flame that now was our flame again, merging with us.

However, it was time to get to work - the Vindice had probably sensed our presence and would be here at any moment .

"Oh, such a beautiful box!" Bluebell screamed upon seeing the heavy-duty flame emitters later implanted in our bodies. Since then we simply called them "boxes". Carnage boxes. Previously, to activate these devices, we needed to touch them with a ring, but now they were part of us, like any other organ. And just before the implantation of the emitters, our restless inventor Verde improved them a bit and combined them with the teleportation system. Now with their help, it was possible to "pump" our flames in an imaginary twin, filling a vague thought form, giving it physicality and durability, and as well in an ally, equipped with a carnage box in the body. The receiving boxes worked as flame converters, turning them into a compatible flame type for the receiving partner. Thus each of the Funeral Wreaths could pool their power, at least for a little while.

"Now, Kikyo!" The emitter worked as a communicator receiving signals from the other's flame, transmitting them into my body, the nervous system converting them into words, as if the brain was connected to the radio. In this case, it was boss's words. I knew the others could hear them too - the part of our plan I was tasked to carry out had to be put into action first. A monstrous dose of flame burst into me. An ordinary man would never have survived. Or even a gifted, but inexperienced and untrained man. We had to get used to this flame oversaturation gradually, through extended collective training.

Cloud flames burst out of me as a purple X-shaped cross. It took the form of four tornados of light, a luxurious hurricane rushing into the sky. Whoa, sky? We were still in the monastery castle turned into a prison by the Vindice, or more precisely, by their too revengeful master... Belatedly I realized that the castle was gone. It had turned to dust, with a loud bang, somewhat reminiscent of the crackling of torn paper, but much more intense - as if a ton of paper was torn simultaneously. (I was reminded of the mountain of papers I had to deal with on my previous job, an eternity ago). The magnificent man-made rock, spawn of the Romanesque architecture of the XIII century, erected by the will of the feudal adventurer, Bermuda's ancestor, disappeared, scattered in the ashes along with outer baileys reinforcing the hill where it had just stood, and where now stood the five of us. Fortunately, I got my bearings and took action: vortices of my flame merged into a huge spiked sphere filled with water splashing out of tanks in which the prisoners were held - decompression was a slow process, and they, having been subjected to water pressure for long periods of time, would be better off staying in the water.

Among them was our second goal, Rokudo Mukuro. And those who weren't contained in the tanks, I secluded in smaller impervious spiked spheres - their soildity was enough to let former prisoners survive the collapse of prison. There was no need in these spheres: I removed them and gave former prisoners an opportunity to get out of the way. For our work was not finished yet: on the needle tips of the huge water-filled sphere twitched the impaled Vindice, for once in caught by surprise. Now they were shrouded in a playful blue glow emitted by Bluebell, sailing over dark purple ball grinning with monstrous spikes in her favorite battle form of a graceful mermaid. Rain Flames, strengthened by all of us, thwarted all Vindice's attempts to resist.

From within, the sphere was"illuminated" by shimmering golden glares of Daisy's flame - without wasting time, our Sun guardian got busy with the water that contained several unhappy swimming prisoners, now released from tanks.

Daisy himself was with us on the rock, but the teleportation system moved his flames into my sphere. Now he was changing the properties of water which would serve as sustenance for human bodies, because the life-support system which supported their terrible existence in prison sunk into oblivion together with the prison.

Everything took a few moments - I didn't like bragging, but we, Funeral Wreaths, had excellent reflexes.

Neither I nor Daisy needed an extra boost to maintain the sphere and turn water into improvised life-support system. Now almost all power of Zakuro and Byakuran (and robots connected to the teleportation system) was aimed at supporting Bluebell. We couldn't let Vindice go too early.

Zakuro was staggering, and one didný need to be a Funeral Wreath to figure out to whom we owed the recent force majeure.

"Well, you made a real mess, Storm Guardian! It was a historical relic, didn't bother people, graced the landscape, could attract tourists, and now what's this? Imagine what would be left from all of us if Kikyo-chan got angry with you?" Boss's irony passed perfectly well through the "general address system" of our carnage boxes. In this case, boss jokes to lift our spirits, and even utterly frustrated Zakuro, who hadn't kept himself under control and poured too much flame into me, understood it. I had a flash of a thought: could I have imagined at my previous work that a superior was capable of good-natured humor?


	3. Chapter 3

I was not going to be angry at Zakuro. Anger maked no sense at all: unspent energy that could always be put to better use. Not everyone saw this opportunity but I faced it when I was busy supporting the sphere in order to give Daisy time to heal the former prisoners of the lower level. Breathing was now easy for them, though unusual, firstly because of the teleportation system saturating the water with gases necessary for liquid breathing, and secondly, because of our lady of the water who transformed this cocktail into something like amniotic fluid. Aside from maintaining the sphere, I needed to watch the impaled Vindice jerking on the monstrous spikes lest they break free and do something stupid. Of course, they were being held back by Bluebell's flames, able to cool the ardor of any living creature down to absolute zero, but we weredealing with the Vindice.

The big question, though, was if it was correct to consider them as alive.

Byakuran held himself aloof, almost without interfering. I thought that ironically, boss should have been in command but not in the field! The real reason, of course, was different: his connection to his own flame had been weakened for too long; it took time to re-familiarize oneself with it…

"Done," Byakuran's thought resounded in me like victory fireworks. So our plan, which seemed crazy to me at first, was successful. Our man in the anomalous zone of Namimori (I apologize if I messed up the pronunciation of this Japanese city name) told Byakuran that the "clash of the titans" proceeded due to our expectations. Bermuda, whom we had deprived from feeding upon his personal prison, where he collected the most gifted flame bearers under the pretext of "protecting the laws of the mafia world", stood no chance against Kawahira. The latter's flame, if one believed Torikabuto, was something phenomenal. It did not belong to any of the known types of flame, but was absolutely impossible to resist. Good that Torikabuto could report it to boss and he made the right conclusions, as was now clear to everyone. Baron von Weckenstein wasn'ta problem anymore.

Bluebell got an opportunity to relax. Left without their leader's will and famous black flame, the Vindice were now helpless, kept from turning into a pile of bones only by the Sun flame radiating from its epicenter like a bizarre starfish and imbuing each of the Vindice with a stream of golden light. In the midst of a huge star was Daisy, reveling in his power. Despite all his rhetoric about the blessing of death and the benefits of non-existence, he not only knew reality well, but also loved his job. Was there a pleasure greater than the awareness of ones power, the ability to withstand the force honored as divine? And for Daisy, the power of death was just like this - and he certainly felt like Prometheus...

There were two main obstacles to the implementation of our plan. Firstly, Baron should have been convinced we were absolutely helpless and unable to control our flame that was separated from us, took the form of clots-twins and was suspended in Bermuda's special transparent cylindrical capsules. Boss was in charge of this problem himself. He let Baron hold his flame-twin in captivity for a long time, never trying to release it, with the exception of the bargain, whereunder boss gave Bermuda the flames of the Funeral Wreaths in exchange for the return of his own flame. Baron was sure that if there was any possibility of Byakuran's reunion with his twin, he would certainly have tried to take advantage of it. The reality sprung a surprise on his lordship von Weckenstein...

Secondly, Bermuda shouldn't have been made aware of his loss of control over the jail, over the Vindice and, most importantly, over the prisoners he intended to use as a power source in his attack at Kawahira he hated so much. Judging by boss's triumphant calmness, the illusionist, the Mist flame bearer, sent to Namimori by Byakuran, justified boss's trust. Because of our Mist bearer's complicated illusions, Baron did not know the Funeral Wreaths appeared inside his prison in full force, led by Byakuran, and reunited with their flames. As well, he never found out the prison was destroyed and the Vindice neutralized.

The capacities of our carnage boxes and teleportation system remained a secret for Bermuda until his death, which came immediately after his attack on Kawahira. The flame of this creature (whether or not Kawahira was actually a human, was unknown) erased Bermuda von Weckenstein from the face of the earth, like a wet rag wiped the dust from the smooth surface of the table.

My huge sphere ceased to exist and scattered into many smaller balls. I could support them without the help of others; in fact, their maintenance did not require my presence. They were filled with normal air delivered inside by the teleportation system. Poor guys inside were unlikely to come round, let alone do something sensible, but it would be safer this way. We saved ourselves from many problems. Soon there one of our units would forward them to our research center, which wouldserve as a sort of hospital for some time.

When the feeling of terrible exertion subsided, I was finally able to feel the pure breath of frosty mountain air rush down at me from the dark blue clear sky, where stars were shining distinctly, like dots on a screen. And from the sky, monstrous snowflakesfell slowly onto my dark purple spiked spheres. Their inhabitants will have to go through an additional therapy course before they can return to normal life - in fact, some of them were held in sealed water-filled capsules for more than a decade...

Again I shifted my gaze from bluish mountain peaks, silver in starlight, to our healer. How was Daisy?

I only managed to notice that things were bad: in front of me, the black whirlwind of flame absorbed one of the "rays" of the quaint star formed by the Sun flames bursting out of Daisy. I barely found time to seclude him in another sphere - it was small, but had the largest margin of safety I was capable of. Much to our relief, it could withstand a blow from a Vindice who rebelled against compulsory treatment.

And the Vindice immediately disappeared. I wonder, where did he teleport? And where did he take energy to move, since the Baron had disappeared?

The first of my unspoken questions immediately received an an answer. The monstrous gray-whitish carcass fell on me from out of nowhere.

I somersaulted aside in the air, evading this bulk, and was followed by the black flame streaming from a cubic device with a funnel at the front end, which resembled a funnelled flame-emitter.

Luckily, the volley was random, the black jet passed not too close. THe surprise attack had not reached the goal, and now we would join forces, and he wouldn't be able to resist us.

But the dangerousness of unequal battle was obvious for the Vindice himself. He had no choice but to repeat his old trick: a black hole gaped before him and instantly sucked his carcass in. And me as well. I still don't know if he decided to pull me along to finish off at least one of his enemies, or if it all happened by chance.

The feeling was far from pleasant, as if I was crumpled like a piece of paper, and then re-straightened. The black hole spat me out in the equally impenetrable darkness.

Cloud flame location gave the answer: a low stone rectangular room. There weren't and couldn't be any light sources. Many traced of the black flame - but not as much as in the old, now demolished prison. All seemed that they settled here not so long ago. But, nevertheless, the discovery was a surprise to me. I didn't think they had another prison.

The enemy was right there. In the enclosed space, I couldn't dodge nimbly enough, scraping my arm against the wall - lI could say goodbye to the sleeve-and, most importantly, being unable to avoid a glancing blow in the chest. My carnage box was bashed in the body and crackled... For some reason I thought they were invulnerable. They were, , but the strength of the Vindice's punch apparently surpassed the expectations of the creators of our carnage boxes.

I would certainly go blind and see stars, if not for the fact that I was in the pitch darkness. But the flame didn't care, it continued to update me about what was happening.

Except the terrible pain I could tolerate, the result was that the carnage box could no longer be activated. Therefore, I could not hope for a flame augmentation, nor use the teleportation system. My connection with comrades was lost too.

The situation was far from pleasant. But the Vindice wasn't at all glad he had missed me once again: black flame swished through the air and demolished the wall behind me (I had to snuggle against the ceiling and immediately stopped to care about a hell of a pain in the chest - it was clear that I was done in the case of the slightest delay).

A series of shots from furious Vindice took down the wall and several partitions between cells - after all, they intended to use this building as a prison. The stone dust stung my eyes and nostrils, but now it wasn't the time to suffer from trifles. Tearing off from ceiling, I rushed into space left on the place of the destroyed cells.

To be more exact, where was the farthest of them. For a short time I would be out of my enemy's firing zone, and therefore I would have a couple of seconds to think about my next actions.

Alas, I spotted the recent prisoner too late not to knock him down. My forehead came in painful contact with what seemd to be someone's shaved skull adorned with a Mohawk hair.

"Oh, pal!" exclaimed a voice in Italian; the voice is male, but strangely high and slightly whiny. "You almost beat my brains out!"

Sun flame flashed in front of me, a bright golden dot, and with it camea survival plan.

Perhaps he was the one I so desperately needed now.

Bracing up, I built a sphere around me and the recent inmate of the ruined cell. I gave it the largest margin of safety - the largest given my present, pretty diminished capabilities.

I didn't have time to tell my new unacquainted friend about this situation, nor did I have strength for a long talk - because of piercing pain, I could hardly move my almost numb lips. Pain squeezed my throat with an invisible but very tangible hand.

But he understood me without words, being probably experienced enough, and his Sun healer's flair made itself felt. Sun flame flowing from him gave life to me with his small, not a marker on Daisy's, but affluent golden stream.

My carnage box, in turn, was also returned to normal operation. Transforming life-giving Sun flame in my usual Cloud flame, it not only accelerated the regeneration of my bruised body, but increased the combat potential. And I would need it soon, as Vindice's black flame increased its pressure on the walls of my sphere. My cruciform amethyst flame looked beautiful next to golden flame, but it was time to get down to business, because the air in the sphere was about to end up... But the air didn't make it to the end. The sphere shattered with a melodious ringing. My unexpected healer and I flew away in different directions, from where was the center of the sphere rushed a mass of dead flesh and flames. More precisely, antiflames, bottomless funnel sucking the energy out of my hair-snakes entwining the Vindice in the enviably thick cocoon. It was difficult to fully repair my carnage box in the field, but being a part of my healing body, it regained much of its (and my) strength. My cheerful green hair snakes consisting of flame grew at the same speed as Vindice's antiflame devoured them.

My opponent was trying to break this stalemate by pointing his terrible emitter at me (it shot non-stop, a few stone slabs were sent into oblivion), but I focused even more snakes on his hand. The desperate pressure of my flame squeezed out his heavy toy and it tinkled on the stone floor, burning a half-meter deep pit.

How long I would hold out against this flying black hole, living and dead at the same time, was unknown. What was clear was that the Vindice had nowhere to run, as his only power source is here, in this new prison, where inmates were already contained under some pretext. Their jailers needed them for only one thing - to produce flames.

And then I started.

I acted out the main part of my plan I hastily invented when the Vindice broke my spiked sphere. Carefully, slowly and gently, I fumbled in him for traces of his former, original flame. It had to work out, because prior to becoming a Vindice he certainly was a Cloud flame bearer, my counterpart. Only the powerful Cloud Guardian could break my sphere so easily, avoiding spikes, dangerous even for the Vindice. Therefore, he still had the instinct inherent in all of us, Cloud flame bearers - because his intellect, as such, was now almost gone. Judging by his primitive automatic actions, Baron thought for him for centuries. Who no longer exists.

Boss told us that the flame is inextricably linked with the personality of its bearer, if you will, with his soul. This meant, by restoring Vindice's original flame, I could return his mind. The risk was terrible, however it was for a noble cause. Was there a better reason to sacrifice your life than the desire to save a brother in flame who got into trouble, to return to him a human face, the opportunity to live his own, full life? To be independent from the master obsessed with revenge, to stop drinking power from prisoners and to maintain his Cloud flame?

For a tiny fraction of a moment I focused on the Vindice like on an empty vessel that must be filled with flames. And for the same share of moment I ceased to fight him. Emerald snakes disappeared, but the Cloud flame, thrown out of me by my box, filled the Vindice inside.

Seeing and hearing nothing more, I sagged on the floor pitted with black flames. I didn't feel any pain. I fell like an empty bag.

But before my mind's eye was a huge mass, gently lit with purple.

An overwhelming sensation of joy and relief filled me. But before I fell into a deep sleep, I realized: the Vindice was no longer a Vindice. My flame, being completely pumped into him, managed to awaken a kindred Cloud flame dormant in him. Weak but revived, with its awakening, it set him free of the "antipersonality" that existed at the expense of antiflame. THe hatred, revenge, hopeless anger that the late Bermuda infected his servants with would no longer have the same absolute power on this person. The emotional turmoil that engulfed him, which nobody understood, couldn't be described by words. No wonder that the former Vindice lost consciousness before I fell into slumber that is essential after all I had done.


	4. Chapter 4

"Stop fucking soiling the place, trash!" A rough low voice that belched this maxim could well belong to a drunken baboon. I obviously wouldn't be allowed to recuperate in sleep, as a hefty kick in the liver clearly testified it. Pain ran through my already exhausted body. But I didn't intend to wallow in shatters of the former Cloud Guardian. Despite the continued dizziness and general weakness, I quietly scrambled to my feet, surveying the room through a haze of pain and fatigue.

There were quite a few "guests": right in front of me was a sharp-faced man with long hair and a frozen expression of perpetual dissatisfaction on his cragged, elongated face. Hair, once dyed white, was now matted and rather greasy. I caught myself thinking that my own didn't look much better. A little further to the right stood two more: a massive tall guy with tousled black hair and a face seemingly devoid of any expression, angular and square, as if hewn out of stone by inept savages. The mouth was skewed to one side in a parody of a grin. Further to the right was a short young man with a mop of blond hair and a silly villager's face stretched into a smile from ear to ear. On his head was an operetta diadem.

"Trash! Are you deaf?" The rough voice sounded again and appeared to belong to the middle guy in the trio. From his mouth came the ineradicable smell of alcohol fume, and his eyes shone with red - or was it just my imagination - in the dim light. It was still unclear where it came from. A closer look, and I understood: from the corner, from the Sun flame. My recent healer (who appeared to be an athletic, somewhat tanned owner of the red-green mohawk, quite crumpled too) was trying to heal some dark-skinned giant affected by the mayhem committed by the Vindice.

"Hey ho, our Leviathan is hopeless, a direct hit of black flame... And this guy came with the Vindice..." he said with a quavering tenor, which in other times would have seemed funny to me.

The Vindice himself I couldn't see. He was behind me and was hidden in the shadows. Cloud flame location (or rather, its current weak semblance, working only on a very limited range) suggested he was still completely immobile and unconscious.

But the Sun guardian wasn't allowed to finish.

"So, you nit, you were with the Vindice!" Interspersing his words with choisest obscene insults, the long-haired guy poked me in the chest, and it turned out that he had a katana sword inserted in the wrist prosthesis, replacing his amputated hand.

"My boss..." I somehow tried to explain with my unobedient lips.

"Your boss is as good as dead," categorically stated the shaggy and short actor of a village theater. He loomed closer and in a short movement, without a swing, punched me in the face. Not very strong, but enough for me in my condition.

"Now it's your turn!" echoed the owner of the katana prosthesis.

I still tried to say something, but my voice betrayed me, and I coughed off the mark. The dizziness became stronger, and I backed away and sagged on the spalled floor, taking a reclined position.

My new interlocutors seemed to take it for some kind of trick. As if in slow motion, I watched the drunk guy raise his hand and the gun in it, staring in my face.

I had no time to think that I'm finished off, but my end was too obvious and absurd to think about it.

Instead, I concentrated on the pitiful remnants of flame in my box.

I could not dream about a full counterattack. Spiked spheres were long in the past too.

The only thing I could now hope for was to create a small shield from Cloud flame, like a tiny fragment of the mentioned spheres. Its strength was low, and it looked more like a transparent sequins, but it was the best I could do for now...

"Die, trash!"

And when a large black gun cast a golden-orange ray of the Sky flame, a microscopic particle of Cloud flame materialized for a moment and rose between my face and the gun. The weak, almost invisible radiation of my box was enough for that. But not more.

A flash of the flame scorched my skin and hair, throwing me on the potholed stone floor.

Long hair, with all its inconvenience, still had its benefits: now it completely hid my face, which should have been turned into a mixture of burning flesh and skull bones.

Before my closed eyes the fiery sparks danced. But the flame location was still working - and even more efficiently than before the shot. Thanks to it, I could distinguish five figures standing in front of me - my eyes told me only about four, but the fifth one, very small, hid in the long shadow of the katana man, to his left. It seemed to steer clear of the shaggy young man in the operetta diadem.

"Why is this odd headpiece? Did he play a frog on children's party?" I thought dully.

However, the "frog" was trying to quack:

"You killed this scum too easily, boss. He had to die in some special way..."

In my head, a little contused after many shell-shocks, flashed two thoughts.

First, they were the recent inmates of Vindice's new prison; they had endured a great deal of fright, all their weapons powerless against their terrible jailers, and they decided to vent a grudge on me.

Second, this bunch of morons didn't bother to check whether I was dead. They killed, apparently, not for the first time, but they still hadn't mastered such a useful skill as follow-up and subsequent control shot.

After all, my flame, albeit weak, gradually came to life, it could serve as a sign that I was alive. And the particle of flame that had protected me was now gone, destroyed by enemy's Sky flame. The enemy didn't seem to understand, but if he suspected something and shot me for the second time...

It turned out, the little man in a ridiculous contraption on his head lifted his voice completely in vain. Being probably a newcomer to the local team, he underestimated the fury of his boss.

The next shot was aimed at him, and was no less accurate than the previous one.

A strange headdress flashed for a second in a hot orange flame - its heat reached even me, albeit like a weak echo. The head itself turned into a burnt-through firebrand. The big-mouthed, embittered boy had no chance. Agile thinking and responsiveness, still inherent in a weakened Funeral Wreath, weren't inculcated in him. Decapitated by flame, the body slammed to the floor.

There was an awkward silence.

I did benefit from it: the flames continued to grow inside me, and I finally realized what was going on: partially renowned by the Sun flame, my long-suffering carnage box came in contact with its "sisters", weak but effective. Now it was being filled with energy transmitted by my companions. The box transformed it into Cloud flame, so usual and needed for me. Perhaps, in this case, Zakuro's propensity to effuse expense, including extravagance of flame, was welcome...

The healer broke the heavy silence:

"Well, we're again left without a Mist guardian. Since Mammon said you were paying her too little money and vanished, everything is somehow not okay..."

Their boss had an excellent reaction, and his anger, perhaps, hadn't been wasted, so he cocked his gun instantly and without hesitation. Shaggy guy and katana man shied to the sides.

But they were shot. From my hand, on which the Cloud ring was lit with dark purple. Two generous sweeps, and both henchmen of their red-eyed boss got two solid portions of my favorite platycodons that performed two functions simultaneously - growing through their bodies and blocking enemies' rings, so they couldn't play some dirty tricks on me. Soon on broken stone, two luxurious bushes of blue-violet flowers would bloom. At least there would be something good in this damn place.

What about the boss?

And for their boss, I had to prepare a special surprise.

While he was waiting for someone else to open his mouth, ready to vent his anger on a hapless man, I spotted a piece of some wooden furniture just between his shoes. My left hand, turned into a kind of a very thin vine, rushed to the wreckage like a living likeness of the finest safety fuse.

And when this scumbag raised his hand with the gun to the voice of his Sun Guardian, then a piece of wood, rapidly growing due to the connection with my vine arm, became a thin sharp stake. Which instantly impaled the red-eyed vampire from the crotch to his gaping mouth, sticking out triumphantly, piercing the hapless murderer through.

The shot went just above the healer's head, which he wisely shrunk into his shoulders. It damaged only his rumpled mohawk and he instinctively grabbed his scorched head. Alas, the safety of his hairstyle was not my priority right now. He should be glad to be alive - the fate of their leader were beyond a doubt.

And, writhing terribly on my makeshift stake, he did not abandon them, but an attempt to jump off during the germination of wood through his body brought him only one advantage - he died faster than if he had behaved calmly. Small offshoots looking like branches of a young tree, but much more durable, formed on the growing stake. Twirling on it, he immediately tore his insides. Loud wheezing, more like a belch, broke out of his curved mouth, preceding the flow of blood out of it.

His accomplices perished in a less dramatic way. Similar to a reared flowerbed, the happy owner of the katana prosthesis badmouthed me until he crashed down and went quiet forever. His companion in the tiara was more practical. Being pulluated through with fragrant platycodons, he threw several knives at me. I guess they should have been charged with some flames, but the flower locking his ring didn't allow the enemy to pull it off. He died writhing on the floor, not having received the last pleasure of revenge - his flying knives flashed and ricocheted off the teeth of a giant snake, which had become one of my hairs. Just one was enough.

The flames in Sun guardian's ring flashed blindingly, he is clearly not going to give up without a fight.

Frankly, I did not want his death. On the contrary, I had a desire to talk with my unexpected ally and take this opportunity to thank him for services rendered.

But the ex-owner of a burned-out mohawk was in no mood for a peaceful conversation. I would say more like he did not want me to have time to take a vertical position (previously I had to attack while lying down, that does not make the slightest difficulty for a Funeral Wreath) and jumped to knee me in the chest, while I was still scrambling up on my feet.

That just proved that good deeds never paid off.

After all, without my attack he would not now be alive.

My hair snakes soared to meet him in a combat stance, similar to that of an angry cobra, but he didn't have time to reach me.

His athletic body froze in the highest point of the jump, wrapped in a weak but bright blue glow in the twilight. The Sun flame slowly began to fade.

"Don't touch my Kikyo, I'll touch him myself!" Behind my back, I heard the happy laughter that was to me like a ringing of heavenly bells.


	5. Chapter 5

I staggered more from relief than from exhaustion and pain.

I carefully pulled back while Bluebell was calming the robust healer down, casting him into a torpor similar to unconsciousness or deep sleep. I leaned against the wall remnants. Getting my breath back, I watched as my frustrated opponent, wrapped in pale blue flame, sagged on the floor and froze.

"It'd be easier to kill him, but Byakuraccio won't allow it . He says Kikyo-chan made enough balls here..."

With a single glance Bluebell admired my installation of the picturesque corpses, and her bottomless eyes, blue like air, became even bigger.

"Byakuraccio must have second sight." The new figure appeared out of the darkness. "You, Kikyo, can ask old Timoteo for a reward."

Boss, to my amazement, is still wrapped in a white blanket, forming a kind of Arabic burnous.

"Don Timoteo Vongola?" Bluebell and I exhaled in unison. Of course, we heard a lot about this man. Not every Vongola boss could manage such a motley organization, corroded by internal contradictions, and safely live up to a ripe old age. However, Don Timoteo was alive and well.

"This cutie," boss nodded toward the red-eyed who was still feebly twitching on my makeshift stake, "is his illegitimate son. Don Timoteo sent him to the Vindice for re-education, after the son tried to remove the head of the family from power and to climb into don's chair."

"Then it means, all these freaks?.." Bluebell was clearly ready to use a stronger word, but in boss's presence she tactfully swallowed it.

"You're right, they are his accomplices. At the time they were believed to be the best assassination squad of the Vongola - the so-called Varia. Kikyo-chan saved Don Timoteo from redundant hassle that certainly would arise due to their release."

As I digested the information in my head which was ringing from fatigue, Bluebell asked boss the most important question:

"So, war with the Vongola?"

"Hold on, you messer. If I were you, I wouldn't hurry."

Boss joked, as usual, mockingly wagging his finger at Bluebell, but his gleaming Sky ring and dreamy, pensive expression in his eyes said volumes. Such an expression was seen whenever our family faced some large-scale problems. Fixing them was the main pleasure in Byakuran's life, as paradoxical as it may sound.

"Vongola is a very powerful family..." Our future does not seem serene to me, as I implied my boss.

"And we, too," he retorted, letting us know that we were to drop the conversation about relations with the Vongola for the time being.

I broke away from the wall and carefully moved towards my adherents. My appearance left much to be desired. Hair disheveled and greasy. Half of my face was a sheer abrasion, an eye swollen shut. White coat with a newly adopted Millefiore logo turned into a kind of a vest, buttons hopelessly lost along with sleeves, clothes beneath in rags which scattered god knows where. Pants in a little better condition. In short, now I looked almost like I did in my blackster youth, except for the sad fact that even then I had never been so dirty and shabby.

But my carnage box was already working on the regeneration of the unfortunate body, so worrying about it didn't make sense.

But what made me happier was that Bluebell didn't give a damn about my looks. Charming in her blue-and-white dress, white boots and white cloak with a black underside I recently had too, she happily fell on my neck, and I didn't hesitate, even in boss's presence. I kneeled and pressed my relatively unhurt side of the face against her velvety cheek. Otherwise, she would have had to jump up - after all, I was almost twice as tall as her.

Getting tired from cuddling and whispering tender little words in my ear, our little mermaid loosened her grip and turned to Byakuran, who was watching this scene with his usual impish smile.

"And why did these Varia creeps attack Kikyo? He himself wouldn't hurt a fly, I certainly know."

Bluebell stroked my bruised nape with her soft but strong little hand, which made me feel like it began to heal faster.

"It's simple," Byakuran laughed. "In his epic battle with Kikyo, our new friend from the former Vindice not only smashed a half of the castle, the former residence of the once Varia, but also brought down the ceiling of their well-stocked cellar. The head of the Varia, Xanxus, felt very uncomfortable, having spent so much time without alcohol. And then, finally, he is freed from the dungeon, thanks to Kikyo and the Vindice, and discovered that there was almost no alcohol - just a couple of sips."

Covering her delightful eyes, Bluebell laughed in my temporarily deaf ear. I chaff too, in fact the deprived alcoholic's rage seemed now very funny to me, as well as the dull anger of his friends.

"I was glad to amuse you." nodded boss. "And now it's time to come back. There is nothing more to do. Our task force will take care of everyone."

Unlike teleporting "black holes" of the Vindice, our system worked quickly and painlessly. Bright light hit the eye, blue floor formed under our feet, and around us stretched white walls. From one of them, right in front of me, grins Torikabuto's mask I distinctly see looking over the bright blue waves of Bluebell's hair.

An unceremonious slap on the back almost sent me stretch on the floor. Only a strong Bluebell's body helped me to keep my balance.

"Kikyo, what did you do, busted your gut in the sand pit, or rolled at a construction site after a drinking bout?"

Zakuro's rumbling bass was tinted by the rustling tenor of Daisy who was sitting on the arm of the nearest chair.

"I wouldn't want to die like this. Death should be aesthetically pleasing and nobly arranged."

"Shut up, two wiseacres!" Bluebell flew at them, turning on heels and placing her hands on her hips.

"It wasn't a construction site, there was a reverse process," grinned Byakuran, adjusting his improvised burnous.

Carefully, I got up and put a comforting hand on her shoulder, but Bluebell threw it off with an impatient, antsy movement.

"Blinder was planned, but Kikyo-chan smashed everything, booze was dripping on the floor, didn't get in Xanxus's mouth! And whatever, Kikyo-chan, stop the hell listening to them, you have to relax, you deserve it!"


	6. Chapter 6

I was woken up by an unusual feeling - something was persistently tickling my eyelids.

"Get up, hero!" Zakuro's mocking exclamation shook the remnants of sleep off me. Bluebell wore a shy but sly smile, childish as always, despite her long gone childhood.

In a slight movement, I stood up from the couch, feeling the lightness and freshness in the whole body. There was no trace of scratches, abrasions, bruising and other damage. My clothing was also in order. It seemed as if everything that happened was a dream.

"I see you all here, and even Kikyo-chan had a good night's sleep..."

Boss, in his usual white suit, entered the room of our medical center, where I, apparently, was now, and sat down on a nearby couch.

Zakuro and Bluebell both sank into chairs. Daisy was standing by the far wall and looked thoughtfully out the window, as if nothing here was of his concern.

"It is time to explain," began Byakuran very strictly, without his usual smile. "The experiment I began with our Verde led to a rather unexpected results. Initially, it was expected that the flame twin, created by filling thought forms with flame, will be manageable, and will not deplete its creator of strength. But in fact, everything failed. Once the uncontrollable flame clot, Ghost, escaped from the laboratory so quickly that Verde and I couldn't understand anything. The "natural" disasters Ghost caused attracted the attention of the Vindice, in whose hands he fell. Then our late friend von Weckenstein realized what a trump card was in his hands. I was absolutely helpless, my flame as Ghost was in his grasp. He demanded me to have your flame take the form of similar twins which have been transferred to him and served his purposes. Baron had one purpose - revenge against the man we know as Kawahira. With our help, Baron managed to find out his whereabouts. As you may recall, it was him who Torikabuto encountered during the teleportation system tests."

"And you reported this to Bermuda?" Zakuro frowned in disbelief.

"Not really me," boss shook his head. "Alejandro helped us with the system development."

"Well, he..." Zakuro was obviously going to let fly a torrent of invectives at the Vindice, but boss stopped him with a careless wave of his hand.

"Alejandro wasn't too closely associated with Bermuda, he almost completely preserved his identity, but it was what that contributed to his delusion about Baron's motives - he had no idea how strong was the hatred in Bermuda, as he turned a deaf ear to the arguments of reason. Revenge on Kawahira was von Weckenstein's idée fixe. His "pacifier" is an absorbing converter, with which he could drink the flame of the others. Under the pretext of defending the laws of the mafia world, he created the prison where his Vindice servants collected all the most powerful of the gifted. Concentrating their flames in himself, baron hoped to become strong enough to destroy Kawahira. Of course, having came into possession of your flame twins, he was not going to let my Ghost go. We who sit here were his last, most precious acquisition. And lately he hadn't been averse to anything - even to use the flame of these miserable troglodytes, the Varia. He decided to "borrow" them temporarily from Timoteo of the Vongola for good money."

"He deceived even don Timoteo?" I asked, stretching.

"Of course! Even if he won, those whose flames he used almost certainly would have died from exhaustion. But after defeating Kawahira, Baron would become the most powerful being on the planet. In any case, he thought so. This prompted Alejandro to take our side in the conflict. Of all further, you are aware - Alejandro told us the coordinates of the Vindice Penitentiary and Shoichi hastily debugged the teleportation system, so as we could get there in the flesh. I pretended to submit to Baron's will in order to lull his suspicions, and I gave him your flame. Baron went to kill Kawahira, being fully confident that his system of feeding on someone else's flame is working as it should. And is feeding him through the teleportation channel. An illusionist I sent to Namimori managed to maintain this delusion in Baron's mind almost to the very end."

"So, you and Verde had fun with your experiments and burst boiler, and then we had to help you save your ass from the Vindice den."

"More precisely, my flame," nodded Byakuran. "You see, I wasn't sure that I'd be able to get out myself, even if I can move there and be reunited with my flame. The emergence of Funeral Wreaths in Bermuda's citadel at the same time was not only more effective but also..."

No one had time to react, as our formidable boss got a resounding slap from our Rain Guardian.

"A new way to communicate with the boss? Well, Kikyo-chan, I'm not jealous..." Byakuran calmly opened a marshmallow box (where do they constantly come from?) and bit off a piece with an obvious pleasure.

I jumped after Bluebell, successfully sat her beside me on the couch and held securely. Then I continued to monitor boss who beamed with pleasure, no matter what. Probably, Bluebell's slap awakened some romantic memories in him.

"Let me go, you deserve worse than being killed," Bluebell mutters in my shoulder. She pouted but looked at Byakuran with less anger.

"You better ask Kikyo why did he fill the Vindice with his flame alone? There was a great risk of collapsing under the strain. He could have hid in the Varia castle and stayed there until we found him, focusing on his box signal."

The boss was right, my actions weren't too clever. I muttered something about not leaving my brother in flame in the lurch.

"Got it, another risk-lover who doesn't look before he leaps," summed up Bluebell, playfully tugging at my hair while jumping to pat Byakuran on the head as if saying "hey ho, a bad egg you are, bro..."

"I'm much more interested in the reason why the Vindice attacked me, because Baron's will didn't control him anymore. Bermuda was already dead." I voiced what bothered me ever since the attack.

"Baron's flame influenced him too much," said Daisy, still looking out in the window. "His identity was too weak. It turned into a simplified copy of Baron's personality. He was obsessed with the thirst for murder. It is commendable, but worthy of a better use. The rehabilitation course will take long."

"You returned the flames to other Vindice by connecting them to our medical robots?"

"Yes," boss confirmed, "and before that, Daisy's flame kept them between life and death."

I remembered that our robots were equipped with the likeness of carnage boxes that allowed them to pour flame in our wards from among ex-Vindice. Few could bear it, but the Vindice didn't lack endurance.

I saw Daisy's contented face, reflected in the glass.

been some changes on it.

Noticing this, Zakuro openly laughed .

Bluebell boldly winked and handed me a mirror.

Looking at my reflection , I also started to laugh quite sincerely.

It turned out that my eyelids were now tinted with a magnificent emerald color to match my hair. Judging by how carefully I was made up, I began to understand whose delicate hands worked while I was sleeping, and what was the strange feeling that woke me up.

"Um, I probably like it. You have good taste, gentlemen. Thank you for taking care of me during my long sleep."

Bluebell gave a light playful bow.

"But with the Vindice who was the bearer of the Lightning flame, all didn't go quite according to the plan. We've got a sudden help." Chuckling, Byakuran gave me my favorite meal in a transparent plastic box.

I opened it with a sense of satisfaction and anticipation - Byakuran's Japanese chef knew a lot about them.

"And who helped you?"

"Takoyaki! Takoyaki!" I suddenly hear from the couch behind me, in the far corner.

Clear, almost childish voice. At the same time, rather deep.

I turned around, expecting to see anything but the result was disappointing. On the couch was just a dark-haired boy of sixteen, no more. His face, if this was anything to go by, once tanned and well-fed, now had a pale gray shade and sports sunken cheeks. But it expressed a genuine joy because of the box that I still held in my hands - or rather, of its contents.

"These balls want Lambo-san to eat them!"

The young man didn't look like a Japanese, and therefore made me wonder: how did he know what a takoyaki was? (I also had to add that he spoke perfect Japanese.)

But I didn't have time to ask him, though he didn't seem to be in the mood for conversation: taking the sitting position, he pulled the delicacy box out of my fingers. And a minute later it all disappeared in his mouth, in front of the amazed public.

All the Funeral Wreaths dropped jaws. Including our medical center director - despite the fact that Daisy was usually impenetrably calm (or skillfully played the tranquility).

After a series of vigorous, not to say lightning-like jaw movements, the boy leaned on his back, eyes half closed, and then fell into a semiconscious state in which, apparently, he was before, which is why I didn't immediately spot him.

A medical version of Mini Mosca robot ran to his couch and treated the poor boy with the Sun flame from the built-in emitter.

"Sharp lad," said boss ironically, "will go far... And now he needs a complete rest. He spent too much effort. My fault - I didn't think he would react strongly to the takoyaki..." he answered my unspoken question.

"Still," adds Bluebell. "He's the only one in prison who has kept the full force of his flame - and managed to activate it without a ring, or boxes, or whatever! He split your flame sphere that even Byakuran barely breaks through!"

"Indeed, Kikyo," I heard amazement in boss's tone. "I had to get on with your needle spheres to release former prisoners - otherwise our doctors couldn't reach them. They are in poor condition, even Mukuro, with all his strength... But Lambo-san, as he calls himself, came round, and can't move normally only because of the energy burst he filled a Vindice's body, and it drained him."

"But..." I was trying to argue, after all, the same happened to me but I ended up fine, including my box.

"The human body isn't a machine." My slow wits touched Daisy to the quick. Sometimes it happened with him. Our main healer was nervously pacing between the couches, glaring at me. "Intricate design, surprisingly fragile and strong at the same time. Few people can sustain such flame differentials. It's exceptional, phenomenal endurance. He can defy death."

"He totally kicks butt - I have never seen such strong lightning!"

Zakuro could even not elaborate. The phenomenal endurance Daisy mentioned and impetuous vigor even in an exhausted state I had just witnessed let me guess he was a Lightning Guardian. Of unprecedented power.

"In some way, Daisy, you aren't quite right," Byakuran shook his head. "Our new friend's body, though not intended to be a natural flame emitter, can function like that. Lambo is a living analogue of our carnage boxes."

"The emitter isn't integrated into the body? The body itself is the emitter?" Bluebell grabbed her head. "Poor, what did he endure..."

"Fuck," Zakuro hiccuped in amazement. "I thought he has a box, it's just installed somehow tricky. That's why he's a bit off his dot."

"Mind of a five-year-old. He lost most of his memories. They will come back slowly, not in full," Daisy snapped .

"Then he'll be fine, just won't remember everything?" exhaled a deeply moved Bluebell.

"He will, as much as this life can be called fine," Daisy frowned disdainfully.

"This peculiarity cannot be innate," I threw in a hasty remark. If one didn't interrupt Daisy, he could spend hours ranting about the grim abominations of life and virtues of illustrious non-existence.

"You know too much, Kikyo-chan." Boss looked down with a suddenly serious face. "What can be, what can't. The Estraneo family wasn't the only one engaged in questionable experiments."


End file.
